


“pull over. let me drive for awhile.”

by clickingkeyboards



Series: one hundred ways to say 'i love you' [1]
Category: Murder Most Unladylike Series - Robin Stevens
Genre: F/F, Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, Murder, Texting, friendship fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-18 04:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21269267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clickingkeyboards/pseuds/clickingkeyboards
Summary: Daisy and Hazel are forced to make a seven-hour drive across England to make it to a meeting about a case the Junior Pinkertons are investigating. Even though Alexander's amusing antics as he tries to get George to sleep are entertaining, Hazel can't seem to keep her eyes open at the wheel.Modern AUWritten for the first prompt in the '100 ways to say "I love you"' prompt list by p0ck3tf0x on Tumblr.
Relationships: Alexander Arcady/George Mukherjee, Daisy Wells/Hazel Wong
Series: one hundred ways to say 'i love you' [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533164
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	“pull over. let me drive for awhile.”

“You’ll need to reach us before tomorrow morning at nine if you want to make the first meeting of case participants,” George says over facetime to us one evening. For the first time since the Cambridge murder when we were only fourteen, he looks absolutely beaten. Although his white shirt is impeccably pressed and his tie is hugging the base of the throat, there is no disguising the exhaustion this case has heaped on his shoulders. His hair is awry from his fingers being pushed through it, his eyelids flutter as he tries to force open tired eyes and his thin fingers twist his engagement ring incessantly. 

“George,” I say before Daisy can get in a word about the case, “You look beaten.”

“I’m perfectly alright,” he replies, blinking tired eyes. “Daisy?”

“We’ll make the drive,” she says, surfacing from her mental map of England where she was calculating the drive. “We’ll see you in Plymouth.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, girls,” George says with a smile, and reaches to end the call.

I turn to Daisy in disbelief when I’ve looked up from my phone, Google Maps open on the route from our cold and poorly-heated hotel in Northumberland to the Plymouth coast. “Daisy!” I exclaim. “It’s a seven-hour drive!”

“Seven hours and twenty minutes,” she corrects in her irritating way, making for the wardrobe in our hotel room. “Come on, Watson, we need to pack.”

With an irritated sigh, I throw myself back on the bed, picking up my phone again to message Alexander. “Daisy, we can sit this case out. The Junior Pinkertons have this handled, don’t they?”

_ To Alexander: Your boy is looking tired. Make sure he sleeps tonight and eats well tomorrow morning before the meeting. _

“Would you want to skip out on this case if the drive wasn’t seven hours?” she asks, throwing a suitcase onto the bed and pulling her clothes from the wardrobe. They are already horribly wrinkled from two months of rotating the same items of clothing, moving them straight from the machine at the laundromat to the suitcases without being ironed. We’ll have to get hold of an iron in the boys’ hotel when we get to Plymouth because all our good blouses and dresses are unsightly. 

_ From Alexander: You’re right, Hazel!! He’s completely exhausted. I’ve been trying to fight him into bed for the last half an hour but no such luck. _

_ To Alexander: Kiss him until he falls onto the bed and then wrap him in the duvet so he can’t escape. _

“I want to sleep somewhere that isn’t a Premier Inn and stop rotating the same five outfits!” I say, propping myself up on my elbows so I can turn and look at her.

_ From Alexander: Grade A plan, Hazel!! _

Thumping down beside me, Daisy says, “Hazel, detecting is we do! It’s almost Christmas now. It would be dreadfully impolite if someone went and got themselves murdered around Christmas so we can have a calm couple of weeks in London with the boys before we go back to detecting. Now, we need to get ourselves to Plymouth and solve this murder!”

With one final text to Alexander, I sigh and lean over to kiss Daisy on the cheek, silently agreeing with her. “Let’s go and save the world.”

_ To Alexander: Why are we both dating impossibly hard-working detectives? It’s exhausting. Next time there’s a murder, we should go to Paris together and get manicures in fancy spas while they’re off on some seat-of-the-pants adventure. _

_ From Alexander: Engaged to, in my case. Also, you like it. So do I! _

_ To Alexander: I know. I wish I didn’t. _

_ From Alexander: So do I but we’ve chosen to be detectives and it’s enjoyable when you aren’t looking at a sliced-open person washed up on a beach in Plymouth looking six shades of white past dead. _

_ To Alexander: Lovely imagery. _

_ From Alexander: I know. At least you only saw photos. Now, go and pack and drive down here while I watch George twist his wedding ring and do everything but sleep. Save drive xx _

_ To Alexander: See you in Plymouth!! _

* * *

At eleven, we set off in the car. It’s the dead of night in the dead of winter, so I insist upon bundling Daisy up in our thickest jumpers before we start to drive.

After three hours, we’re cruising down the motorway out of the north of England and I’m struggling to keep my eyes open. Daisy is poring over the case files George and Alexander sent us on her laptop, her blonde plaits impeccable and her face flushed slightly pink from the chill.

“Watson,” she says as I swerve alarmingly for the seventeenth time. “Pull over. Let me drive for awhile.”

“Daisy, it’s...”

“Watson.” She reaches over and places a hand on mine, guiding me to pull over into an appropriate clear space on the side of the road. “It’s alright.”

Daisy Wells grows softer when she’s tired.

As she walks around the car to get into the driver’s side, I dozing unlock my own door and swing my legs out into the biting night air. In front of me, Daisy holds out a hand to pull me to my feet, then draws me close with an arm around my waist.

“Sleep well, Watson,” she says, and kisses me gently on chapped lips.

I curl up in the passenger seat when I reach it, tugging a blanket from the backseat and over me.

“Stealing kisses from your missus. Does it make you freak out?” Daisy murmurs along to the playlist she has called up. “Got you fussing, got you worried. Scared to let your guard down.”

As I listen to the love of my life sing along to Hayley Kiyoko, having abandoned her precious research so I can rest, I feel my eyes grow heavy.

* * *

At six in the morning, I wake up to even deeper darkness and Daisy at the wheel, listening to a podcast on serial killings.

I open my phone, as I have four messages from Alexander. When I open the chat I scroll up, bemused as I don’t recall the conversation he seems to be responding to.

At two in the morning, he sent me a message.

_ From Alexander: George is finally asleep, thank goodness. He won’t let go of me now, though. He’s latched onto me like some clingy creature. _

_ To Alexander: Hello, Alexander. It’s Daisy. Hazel’s asleep. _

She then attached a photo of me, curled up in the passenger seat. It was clearly taken at a petrol station, where she had pulled over to refill. 

Alexander then attached a photo to return the favour, one of him with a dorky and exhausted grin on his face, one hand holding his phone and the other curled around George, whose head was resting on his chest.

_ To Alexander: Good to see he’s getting some rest. -Daisy _

_ From Alexander: After several hours, finally!! _

_ To Alexander: You are good for him, Arcady. Against my better judgement. -Daisy _

_ From Alexander: Wow, approval from Daisy Wells? I’m flattered!! _

_ To Alexander: Don’t get used to it, Arcady. Sleep well. -Daisy _

_ From Alexander: Drive safe!! _

The four messages from this morning were only just sent.

_From Alexander: George won’t wake up, any suggestions??_

_From Alexander: He’s articulate enough to come up with a fantastic argument against why we shouldn’t go to the meeting._

_From Alexander: He’s moved onto punctuating his arguments with pillows thrown at my face._

_From Alexander: MY GLASSES_

Attached is a picture of Alexander’s hand holding aloft his glasses, missing one lens and one arm. Through the lens that’s still there, I can see George, distorted by the glass and sat up in bed, laughing.

I chuckle, which Daisy notices. “Morning, sleeping beauty,” she teases, turning off of the motorway. “Only half an hour left. I thought I would drive us straight to a laundromat so we can clean and iron our good clothes, and then we can shower in the boys’ hotel room and fuss about finding ourselves somewhere to stay after the meeting.”

“Mmh, good idea,” I mumble, too tired to form proper words.

“Right!” says Daisy cheerfully, as she only sounds directly before breaking the rules. “Let’s see if I can’t shave five minutes off that half an hour.”


End file.
